Contact
by cmr2014
Summary: Vash the Stampede, meet Mal Reynolds.


DISCLAIMER: Trigun and its characters belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.

DISCLAIMER: Firefly and its characters and its 'verse all belong to Joss Whedon.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Damn it, Jim, I am a welder, not a linguist. My apologies for the lack of accent marks in foreign language, and also for anything that does not translate into what it is supposed to. Some of it is taken from _Firefly_, and some of it provided from internet searches of English-to-Chinese phrases, and we all know the internet can be iffy. If you want translations, feel free to look them up. Also, the background of this story is a blend of the _Trigun_ anime and manga leaning toward manga, and a blend of pre- and post-_Serenity_.

**Contact**

Sometimes he was a saddle tramp. Sometimes he bummed a ride. Often, he simply hoofed it. But whatever his mode of transportation, one thing that was constant was that Vash the Stampede was a wanderer.

Part of him thought it would be nice to settle down, but deep inside he knew he would not. There was too much to see, too much to do, too much to live. No human was precisely like another, and he longed to know every one of them, to experience the infinite variety that was life as a human. To taste a life he could never have.

He must be content with being the outsider, separated from humanity by the invisible partition of what he was. And if he was not entirely satisfied with it, he could at least accept it. Humans were Rem's people. In a way, he thought, he was Rem's son, albeit sort of an adopted one, and so humans were part of his family. Wandering here and there was not just about vicariously enjoying a life he could never have, it was about getting to know all his adopted cousins.

It was a shame he would never get to have the full human experience. People really did not know how lucky they had it, having so many chances to fall in love and chase happiness.

"Still would be nice to give it a shot with Meryl," he mused. "That short girl and her temper would be a real adventure." Chuckled at the thought of her, then frowned as the memory of her reaction at seeing his angel arm for the first time hit. Even without the threat of Knives – even without the lifespan difference between them – they just could not be together. Not if he frightened her in such a way.

Forced his mind on to other, more pleasant things. The fire had died down to glowing embers, and he was glad for the warmth both they and his red coat gave him to ward away the night chill. It was nice to be warm as he enjoyed the view of the night sky.

A streak across the sky caught his eye and he smiled wistfully. Was not often a shooting star happened.

Then he sat bolt upright, realizing that streak was far too bright to be a shooting star. It was something actually inside the atmosphere. A meteorite could be bad news if it impacted.

As that realization hit, a bright flash briefly lit the night. Moments later, he felt the earth shake as the shockwave of impact spread outward.

Wasting no time, he grabbed his bedroll and pack and hurriedly saddled his recently purchased thomas, untethering it and spurring it into action. "Yah, boy!" Lit out on the trail of the crash.

If the beast was perturbed by the shockwave it had felt, it soon got over it as its legs warmed up and it began to pour on the speed. This particular thomas welcomed the chance to run, even in the middle of the night. Vash had been right in deciding this thomas that spit at him when they met had some fire in its belly.

The ground was covered quickly as Vash rode the thomas in the direction the meteorite had streaked. So far, he saw no signs of people, but it still might have hit a remote farmhouse or other structure with people inside. He would not be able to rest until he knew for sure.

After not too long, Vash began seeing bits and pieces of what looked like wreckage, growing larger in size as the pursuit continued. Not a meteorite, then.

Could it be an actual spacecraft? Privately, he had always hoped there were more people out there somewhere. Maybe Project SEEDS had not been the only attempt to get off Earth. Maybe other people had succeeded where SEEDS had failed, and the goal to find a new home for the human race had succeeded.

Maybe. Not likely. Even if other attempts had been launched, planets similar to Earth were an _extremely_ rare find.

More likely, it was just space junk. Either way, though, he had to make sure no one was hurt. A large plume of smoke told him he was closing in.

The crater was not the largest hole in the ground he had ever seen, having traveled through some canyons, but it was impressive. Surrounded by sand and dirt it had thrown up to form a rim, it started at ground level and sloped down. With the loose surface material of this planet, the impact had created a crater with a diameter of around a kilometer, much wider than it would have on a denser planet surface. At the center of it – well, Vash was not sure exactly _what_ it was. It seemed to be of a uniform structure at one end, but the other end was jagged and partially open to the inside, bits and pieces of the edges melted to each other.

Thoughts flew around inside his head. Was it metal? High-density plastic or polymer or fiber-whatever, any of those words he remembered being tossed around by SEEDS scientists as a kid?

Was there an actual being inside? Another human, an actual off-planet human? Or a for-real extraterrestrial of another race? Could the Sixty Billion Double-Dollar Man be the first one to make contact with another sentient species?

Shook his head to clear it. First things were first, check the area. A quick jaunt on the thomas through the area, illuminated by bits of flaming wreckage scattered around, and several calls around the area indicated there were no people around who had been hurt.

Given this sparsely populated area away from any nearby towns, that was enough to satisfy Vash. He might have been more thorough and scouted around the entire perimeter of the crater, but he could not deny he was curious to explore the object. As long as he felt sure there was no one here who needed help, there was nothing wrong with checking it out.

With the rambunctious nature of this thomas, Vash did not trust it to stay put, and there was nothing secure enough to tether it to. He rode it to the loose mound of sand and dirt making up the rim. Took a breath and sent it trotting slowly down into the crater.

It was about thirty kilometers deep, sloping down steep at first, then flattening out. Vash reined the thomas carefully, making sure it stayed slow and careful. The object had burned hot enough to turn some patches of sand to glass. It still radiated heat and vapor as he rode up as close to it as he could get the thomas to go.

Sighing with frustration, he hoped he could trust the thomas to stay and dismounted. "If you run away, I'll track you down and eat you."

The warning seemed to work, at least for the time being.

Vaporized materials hung in the air, and Vash realized this was not a good place to be for too long. Just a quick look, and he would leave.

It definitely looked like it was some sort of landing craft, which could explain why it had not hit with more force if it had been braking. The intact part of it was angled deeper than the damaged part; he assumed that would be the nose, making the damaged part the tail. Could not tell for sure what material it was made out of, but it seemed to be seamless. Maybe all the construction was on the inside, or maybe this really was an unknown – or lost – technology.

"Anyone home?" he called, feeling mildly foolish. Did he really expect anyone to respond? Even if someone – or something – were in there, what were the odds of them speaking the same language?

The tail was very definitely damaged, deformed and dented and melted in places. There was a large breach of the hull, exposing the inside. If somebody was in there who had survived the crash, they would almost certainly need help. Vash went to step through the hole –

And found himself face-to-face with a most human weapon. The sidearm looked similar to many of those he had seen, and the human wielding it looked more than willing to pull the trigger.

Vash said the first thing that came to mind. "Howdy."

"Who are you?" the stranger snarled.

Well, what do you know – they _did_ speak the same language.

"Vash."

"What kind of – never mind, what's important is you're not Alliance."

"Who?"

"Alliance, damn it! Unplug your ears!"

"Look, guy, I'm not anything but someone looking to help, and you holding that gun on me isn't making it easy."

"Just –"

Vash steamrolled over what the stranger was going to say. "It'll be a lot easier to talk when we're not standing here getting metal fever. Can you holster that piece and let's get the hell away from here?"

The man sniffed the air cautiously. Hesitated a moment as he decided. Slid the weapon into its holster.

"All right. Now we're making progress. Just come with me and –"

The stranger took a step and stumbled, falling out of the craft and landing roughly in the dirt. Vash knelt and turned him over to see if he was ok, then saw the large gash on his forehead that was still bleeding.

"Shitfire'n'tarnation," he muttered. There was no time for proper first aid here. Vash pulled a camp knife – no proper wanderer went without at least one good blade – and cut a sleeve from the man's shirt. Rolled it lengthwise and tied it tight around the man's head, hoping it would staunch the blood. Hefted the stranger's weight onto his shoulders and stood, grunting with the effort – guy was at least a big as him. Carried him over to the thomas and slung him over the saddle, taking the reins and leading it up and out of the crater.

No good trying to make a town right now – they were too few and far between out here. Away from the fumes of the crash site, however, Vash could see to it that this man could get some decent first aid. He found a suitable stopping point and made camp for the second time that night. Once a fire was going, he laid the stranger on his bedroll with his pack for a pillow, opening the flap so he could get at what he needed. Took out a pack of first aid supplies and proceeded to tend to the man's head wound.

It was not the worst injury a man ever had. With the blood loss stopped, the next concern was infection. Fortunately, he had some whiskey. Not exactly top-notch hooch, but it would kill any ill-intentioned microbials. The best he could do after that was to affix some butterfly bandages. Sunup would be soon; perhaps they could set out to look for a doctor to properly treat this man.

This was not the first time Vash had stayed up all night. He used the time to study the offworlder. He was apparently human. Did not look too bad for someone who survived a crash from space. Light brown hair, blue eyes, maybe a couple inches taller than Vash himself.

His weapon was not what Vash had thought a man from space would carry. It was so…low-tech looking. Not incredibly different from Vash's. Sort of like a blend of revolver and pistol; but Vash's was not exactly a standard-bearer for typical, either, with its six o'clock chamber barrel alignment.

What was it like up there? Were there others? Was it coming time to finally leave this giant sandbox?

He was still lost in thought as the sun rose and day broke. It must have been getting close to mid-morning when he looked over and saw the stranger awake, eyes open and hand on his holstered weapon, watching Vash with suspicion.

Big deal. Lots of people watched Vash with suspicion. He grinned at the man. "Howdy! Good to see you're awake."

"Howdy." The offworlder's voice was guarded. "You're the same guy I saw before?"

"Yep. Name's Vash."

"First or last?"

Shrug. "Neither. Both. Only ever been called the one name."

"Everyone on this rock have just one name?"

"No. Most have two. I'm just the odd one out. Whiskey?" Vash held up the bottle of liquor that made a handy disinfectant.

"Later. What is this place?"

Vash cocked his head. "That's an interesting question. I don't think anyone's ever actually decided on a name. You have some people who call this No Man's Land, and some who call it Gunsmoke."

"Most planets I know of have names."

That prompted a chuckle. "This isn't most planets. We're not here by choice. Actually, until last night, I thought we were the last of humanity."

The stranger snorted. "No such luck. Humanity's all over the place At least, humans are. Real humanity's pretty rare in my experience."

Eyebrows knitted in concern. "You don't make that sound like a good thing. Lots of humans, I mean."

"Most times it's not."

"Well, we can discuss the bigger things in a bit. Right now – where do you come from, strange visitor from another planet? Are you able to leap tall buildings in a single bound? Faster than a speeding bullet? More powerful than a sand steamer?"

The stranger snorted again. "_Ni hen fan ren_."

"Hmm? _Lo siento, no hablo espanol._"

"Oh, for – don't you recognize Chinese when you hear it?"

Vash shook his head. "Not really."

"Everybody knows Chinese!"

"Maybe you missed the part where I said I'm the odd one out. And this isn't exactly your world."

"Of all the dirtballs in all the 'verse," muttered the stranger. "Look, I come from a ship, that's my home. No superpowers, I'm just a man. And if I call you Vash…well, reckon you call me Mal."

"Mal –?"

"Mal Reynolds."

The two men shook hands solidly, each locking eyes and taking the measure of the other. Whoever this Mal Reynolds was, he seemed ok to Vash, if a bit grumpy. But who wouldn't be grumpy after surviving a space crash?

"_Gou shi_!" Reynolds' arm suddenly flew up to his neck, touching a chain and pulling up what looked like a locket. A touch opened it. Vash saw a red blinking thing inside. Reynolds closed it and tucked it back under his shirt with a relieved sigh. "Shiny."

"What was that?" Vash wanted to know.

Reynolds looked at him guardedly. Shrugged. The blond man had helped him despite not having to, which was more than he might have done in the same place. Mal Reynolds did not deal in moral absolutes. His morals were dictated by the demands of the situation. "Beacon. Long as it stays workin', my crew can home in and get me off this rock."

A wistful sigh escaped Vash. "Must be nice to have people who have your back."

"Comes in handy on occasion. What, you don't have a crew?"

"Not really. People I cross paths with now and again, nothing permanent. I can't afford permanent. Kind of dangerous for people to be too close to me."

If Reynolds was honest with himself, that sounded familiar. "Got people after you?"

Vash's mouth quirked. "A few. I'm not really the guy things go right for. I never have to look for trouble, it usually looks for me."

Something else that sounded familiar. How much else did they have in common? A thought suddenly struck Reynolds. "This whole planet just one big desert?"

Vash gazed around the landscape. "Pretty much. Different landscapes, but no real bodies of water. Too close to the suns."

For the first time, Mal Reynolds looked up at the sky, squinting at the bright light of the dual suns. "Right, I remember now. Nav comp said this was a binary system when we came in."

"Speaking of which, what are you doing here? If there are other people out there, did someone think to look for us?"

"Sorry, pal. I don't think anyone knows about this place – yet. We were on a run to another system and ran into a crew we couldn't outrun. Made it to this system and hid in an asteroid field, then I had the bright idea to take the shuttle and lead them away. Went fine 'til I found out the starboard thruster had a faulty capacitor, damn those ripoff artists and their thirdhand parts. Set course for the closest thing with an atmosphere and came in rough. Here I am, and I know Inara won't ever let me hear the end of it." Smiled slightly as he thought of her.

Vash caught it and leaned in with a smirk."Girlfriend? Wife? What?"

Reynolds blinked. "Undefined."

"But you want it to be defined?"

"None of your damn business! And – it's complicated. I'm not a good fit for her."

Vash sat back and nodded. "Yeah. I know the feeling."

"You do?" Something else in common.

"Meryl." Vash breathed the name, tasting it like a sweet candy. "But it wouldn't work. She's seen me at my worst, and it scared her. And there's – well, like I said, trouble looks for me. I guess I'm not a good fit for her, either."

"It does suck."

"Yeah, it does."

Each man withdrew into their private thoughts, letting silence do the talking for a while.

Until Vash turned his thoughts over to his curiosity. "What's it like in space?"

Reynolds grunted. "We move around a lot. Work whatever jobs we can get. Anything to stay on the move. Whatever it takes to stay ahead of the Alliance."

"Who are they, anyway?"

A few moments of silence passed. "I'll take some of that bottle now."

Vash handed over the bottle. Reynolds uncorked and held the bottle over his mouth for a long swig. His face contorted as he discovered it was not exactly the smoothest hooch around.

"Good stuff, huh?"

"Bracin'," Reynolds replied with a grimace, prompting a chuckle from Vash. "Anyway, the Alliance – wait, if you don't know about the Alliance, how'd y'all get here?"

Shrug. "We've been stuck here a century and a half, more or less. Started out as something called Project SEEDS, looking for habitable planets humanity could colonize." Pause, as Vash wondered how much to tell. He opted for brevity. "Something went wrong, and we crashed here. We've just been trying to survive ever since."

"Colonization?" Reynolds blinked. ""And y'all must have been in cryo?"

"Most."

"_Wo de tian a!_"

An eyebrow arched. "Which means what?"

"The colonization attempts were launched back when they were still developin' the terraformin' process. It was a win-win for everyone – a backup in case terraformin' didn't work, a reduction in on-planet population, a way out for people who wanted to start over. If everyone on this planet is descended from one of those – _shen sheng de gao wan_, you guys missed it all!"

"Missed what, exactly?" Vash thought about taking the bottle away for a swig, then thought better of it.

"Everything went to shit. At the end of it, only the Anglo-Sino Alliance remained. It was under them terraformin' was fully developed. It was under them everyone got off-planet and onto new terraformed planets to settle. They thought everything was better when they ran the show." His eyes glinted with the cold hardness of diamonds. "They thought everyone should just follow orders and they could make things better. _Force_ things better. _Wang ba dan!_"

They thought they could force things better. Somewhere inside himself, Vash saw Knives deciding he could force his view of what was best upon the world by wiping out every human on this planet. He could understand why Reynolds would despise such an entity.

Except there was also the tone of something very personal in Reynolds' voice. "What did this Alliance take from you?"

The diamond glint remained. "Everything that mattered at the time, nothin' that matters now."

Vash was about to reflect on that cryptic statement when his ears perked. "There's a wagon coming. Maybe they'll have something we can do a better job on your head with, or maybe even an actual doctor. I'm a little worried about a chance of concussion."

"I've had worse," Reynolds grunted. "How can you tell there's a wagon?"

"Good ears." Vash held out his hand. "C'mon, up you go." Hoisted the other man to his feet.

Reynolds abruptly fell back down on his ass in surprise, pointing. "_Guai guai long de dong_! What the hell is _that_?!"

Vash looked over. "What, it's just a thomas. Doesn't everywhere have them?"

"Hell no, not everywhere has big damn mutant birds! Frickin' hell, what's it doin' here?"

"At the moment, nothing. No need to ride it right now."

Reynolds' jaw went slack. "You ride giant birds on this planet?"

Shrug. "Ride, eat, various other things. They're sort of an all-purpose animal."

Reynolds pushed himself up, muttering, "Hell sort of weird place is this, giant frickin' birds, people walkin' around with hair stickin' up like brooms – well, we goin' or not?"

Vash led the way. About ten minutes out, they sighted a thomas-drawn wagon headed their way. "Told you." Just a touch of smugness.

"_Bi zui_!"

They ran toward the wagon, waving their arms to get attention. Unfortunately, they got the wrong kind of attention when gunfire erupted from the wagon. Each dived and rolled for whatever cover they could get, Reynolds behind a decent-sized rock and Vash throwing up sand into a mound and trying to make himself as small as possible, trusting his ability to read bullet trajectories more than anything.

The wagon stopped, the two men up front and three from in back taking cover behind it. The draft thomases jerked and started at the gunfire, but the wagon brake had been put on and they were too securely harnessed to break free or take off with the wagon behind them.

"Yeah, some nice help you found me!" Reynolds called.

"Could be worse!" Vash called back as bullets kicked up sand. "They could hit what they're aiming at!" Yanked his revolver and snapped off a few quick shots of his own.

"How many you make?" Reynolds blinked as a shot chipped a piece of rock off and some dust drifted into an eye.

"Five I can see. You think if we run they'll let us go?"

"Hell, they opened up on us for wavin' our arms, I hate to think what they'll do if we turn our backs on 'em!"

"Then we'd probably better get their backs to us. Got enough ammo for some covering fire?"

Reynolds grinned and yanked his own sidearm. Vash could see now that in addition to a revolver cylinder, it also held a magazine. "You could say that."

"Then light 'em up!"

As Reynolds started firing, aiming underneath the wagon at the visible targets of legs and lower torsos, Vash shed his red duster and threw it up in the air away from him. One shot went clean through it, and he slithered through the sand for all he was worth. Worked his way around with the intention of flanking, but one of the shooters caught sight and his progress was cut short as a couple of gunshots forced him to halt. Still was at a better angle than he had been. A couple shots of his own were rewarded as someone cried out, "My foot! Bastard shot me in the foot!"

Ok, it wasn't a kneecap shot. Still better than nothing. Fired the rest of his cylinder dry and quickly emptied and slapped in a moon clip and kept firing.

"Go!" he called out. Answering fire told him Reynolds understood and was circling opposite him.

"Go!" Vash needed no further invitation. He rolled and fired, reloaded, got a good clear view of the men behind the wagon now. Caught sight of Reynolds on the opposite side at an angle, who caught side of him as well. Punched his fist straight toward the shooters and received an understanding nod.

Both men freshly reloaded and proceeded to lay down a volume of angled fire, pinning the men at the wagon between them. Vash had no idea how many shots Reynolds' firearm held, but he himself had practiced long hours at reloading, so he could empty a cylinder and reload almost without stopping. Within seconds, all the shooters were either disarmed or too wounded to fight.

Vash approached and proceeded to kick away weapons. "You boys want to explain what that was all about?"

"Go to hell, you sumbitch!" one man spat. "You shot me in my gun hand!"

"And you were going to do what to us?" Reynolds demanded, raising his gun to finish the job.

Vash stepped in and slapped down the gun. "No killing!"

Mal Reynolds' eyes widened, and the look on his face clearly questioned Vash's sanity. "Yes killin'! Somebody tries to kill you, you kill 'em right back!"

Vash shook his head resolutely. "No killing," he repeated. "Nobody has the right to take a life."

"Tell that to these _chùsheng xai-jiao de xiang huo_!" Reynolds waved his gun over their would-be killers.

Vash had had this argument too many times with too many people. It was so hard to convince people who did not have his unique background. Hell, he could not convince his own brother, who _did_ share his background. "Look, just look in the wagon for something we can bandage these guys up with, and anything for your head. See if there's anything to tie them up with, too."

Grumbling, Reynolds went to do as Vash suggested. Better he look than be left alone with these men, Vash knew.

"You made a _big_ mistake, buddy," growled a man who had been shot in the shoulder.

Vash turned his head to look down at the speaker. "Could be. I know a lot of people who say letting people like you live is a mistake."

"Check under my bandanna, moron."

Vash lifted the bandanna hanging loosely in a knot around the man's neck. There was a lawman's badge pinned to his shirt.

"You shot a lawman!" the man snarled. "You're gonna swing for this!"

Shrug. "I don't see why. You fired on two men just trying to flag you down. Mighty suspicious, that. Speaking of which – find anything back there worth shooting at us over?" he called to Reynolds.

A parade of six women coming around from the back answered his question. Half of them looked like they'd been put through the ringer, the other half just looked pale and scared. They all wore dirty clothes and were chained together.

Reynolds appeared with a hard scowl. "I don't care what the blond guy says. Somebody better give me the keys to these shackles right now, or people start gettin' lead poisonin'."

It was the lawman who coughed up the keys.

"So," Vash summed up as Reynolds freed the women and started shackling the men – first aid could wait a little longer for their like. "The lawman here provided cover and passage for these slavers. Betrayal of the badge in the worst way – mister, I know an insurance girl who might just castrate you if she were here."

First aid supplies were found. Gunshot wounds were dressed on the criminals. It would have been better to find a doctor who could properly examine Reynolds, but near as Vash could tell, he did not seem concussed and the butterfly bandages were holding ok. That would have to do for now. Vash fetched and re-donned his duster and approached the women with an offer.

"If you're willing to take a short detour for me to pick up my gear," he proposed, "we'll be more than happy to ride with you to the nearest town. We can turn these sorry excuses for men over to someone who knows what a badge actually means, and start getting y'all back to your lives."

The women agreed to this, and climbed in the back. The tables were now turned as they were the ones with the weapons held on their shackled-together former captors.

"Still think it was right to let them live?" Reynolds asked bitterly as he climbed on the wagon seat.

Vash snapped the reins, and they started rolling back to his campsite to collect his gear and thomas. "I've never liked being the one to hold back," he said quietly. "But too often, when people start killing, they don't stop. It's too easy to let the solution to everything be 'kill it'. Nobody's better than anyone else in the end, so I either believe there's nobody worth saving, or everyone is worth saving."

"I'll make sure this is in English so you can understand clearly – you're a damn fool if you think anyone's worth savin'."

Vash's cheeks puffed just a bit as he sighed, "Is that really how you feel?"

Reynolds' jaw was set firm. "That's how it is. You think anyone has a right to life, see if life cares.

"Ask God if He cares. See if you get an answer."

"What happened to make you like this, Mal Reynolds? What happened to your hope and faith, to the things a man lives for?"

Vash had to wonder why he was pushing so hard on a man he had never met before today, a man he would probably never see again when his crew came for him. It was not like he was going to be able to change the course of Mal Reynolds' life in a short time with just words; men better than he whose business was changing souls for the better were too often unable to do so in one single sermon. It was impossible to accomplish without the person you were trying to save witnessing you practicing what you preached and seeing the good things that came with it. Look at how long it was taking him to get through to one Nicholas D. Wolfwood.

But something in him knew that Mal Reynolds needed some sort of gentle reminder that life was precious, even if it was too brief a one.

The offworlder pulled and Vash found himself staring calmly down the business end of his gun.

"I ain't never murdered anyone," Reynolds stated, voice steady but tight. "I kill people who try to kill me or my crew, no more and no less, and I do it to their face. But everything I believed in – you want to know what happened to my hope and faith? The Alliance murdered them.

"Now I believe in my crew and my ship. I have faith in them. That's it."

The look in his eyes dared Vash to say another word and see what happened. But the man had said it himself – he was no murderer. Eyes widened incredulously when Vash, keeping one hand on the reins, took his other and plugged the gun barrel with a finger.

"At least you have faith in _something_," the blond man said. "That's a start. Even if you don't have faith in man or God or anything but your crew, you need some kind of faith in your life."

Reynolds snorted. "From what I've seen, I'd say faith is in bad need of fixn'. And take your finger out of my gun!"

Vash shook his head slowly. "You don't fix faith, Mal. Faith fixes you." Went ahead and took his finger out.

The gun lowered as Reynolds looked like he had heard a ghost. "Where did you hear those words?" he half-whispered. "Who told you that?"

"What, about faith?" Vash took the reins in both hands again. "Nobody told it to me. It's something I've learned the hard way, through time."

Reynolds holstered. "You don't look old enough to say you've learned anything through time."

Vash thought for a moment about what to say next. Was it wise to reveal the truth about himself? Perhaps not. He was tired of always hiding it, though, and maybe the truth was the only way for Reynolds to give any credence to his words.

"I'm very much older than I look," he said quietly. "I'm what humans call a plant."

The look Reynolds gave was one of confusion struggling for comprehension. "Plant? Like grows in the ground – no, that ain't right. You don't mean one of those things in bulbs, the power plants?"

Vash nodded slowly. "I do."

"Alliance uses those to power terraformin', sometimes to run bases and stations. Those things put out a lot of power. Never heard of one outside a bulb, though. You tellin' the truth, or just shittin' me?"

"I'd like to be lying," Vash said honestly. "But it's the truth. I can put out as much power as my brothers and sisters – not in the way they do, though. Not in a good way."

"Weapon?"

"Enough of one to put a hole in a moon." Said in a monotone, keeping the memory at bay. "But that same power keeps me the way I am through time. Just over a century and a half I've been around, so you need to believe me when I say looking in the heart of darkness is not the only choice for you."

"Yeah, yeah, I get the point. Look, forget about me – if the Alliance found out there's a livin' weapon like you, they'd stop at nothin' to get you. They ain't interested in people, just control and however they can get it. 'We know what's best' – _hushuo_!"

"Think so?"

"Know so. If she were here, you could ask a lady named River." There was a hard set to his tone that told Vash there was a lot of hurt in the story behind that sentence. Hurt seemed to be the story of Mal Reynolds' life.

As they rolled up to Vash's campsite, Reynolds took out his beacon and opened it. Closed it and put it away again. "My crew's comin' for me," he said simply.

"Considering what we've been talking about, maybe it's best you're away from people when they get here. We all want off this rock, but with all you've said, it might be the safest thing if nobody knows we're here."

"Probably so," Reynolds grunted. Prepared himself to leave without saying goodbye. Except Vash stopped the wagon and held out his hand.

After a brief hesitation, Reynolds shook it. "Y'know – I think you'd get on great with a shepherd I used to know. Might also make a good browncoat."

Vash's face split into a grin despite not understanding the terms. "I don't know about herding sheep, but as far as brown goes – I'll always wear the red. It's the color of determination."

"If you're determined to run around squawkin' about hope and faith, then I reckon it suits you. But – thanks." Reynolds jumped down and started to head away.

"Hey," Vash called after him.

"Yeah?"

"That woman, Inara? Maybe you're not a good fit for her, but maybe she's a good fit for you. Maybe faith isn't the only thing that fixes you."

Reynolds' face softened slightly with that.

"Seems like maybe your Meryl could be a good fit for you, too. Think on it. Oh, one more thing."

"Yeah?"

"Word of advice. We'll make like no one's here, but if we made it out this far – eventually the Alliance'll get here, too."

Reynolds walked away.

Vash packed his gear and set it in the wagon seat next to his spot. Tethered his thomas to the wagon. "Yah!" Set out for the closest town to turn over some lowdowns and lost women.

As much as Vash wished he weren't, Reynolds was wrong about Meryl. The look on her face at seeing his angel arm was too etched into his memory for him to believe otherwise.

He pictured what a life with her could be like. Taking turns cooking. Going to the store together. Arguing and making up.

Whatever the reality, a guy could always dream.

The rest of what Reynolds had said troubled him. This Alliance did not sound like a good thing for the little pocket of humanity here. Especially not for Vash, if they were looking for living weapons.

And there was Knives. He was certain to war against any offworlder human arrivals, regardless of their might. The Alliance would come after him, and he would come after the Alliance.

One thing Vash was sure of – in a war between the Alliance and Knives, the only guaranteed losers would be the people here, stuck in the middle.

As the wagon rolled on, storm clouds gathered on the horizon.


End file.
